(In) The Age of Audacity

We are all dying for something. in. or outside of. or beyond. Collapse imminent & laborious. topple topple. fuck this & let it burn. there was a time i believed i could afford to be kind with Torn Muscled Tongue. every Gesture i searched for: Temporal Babble. i hate being told my Age is the Reason everything sounds like White Noise & Convenient Lies. how to Get On, or how to Get By, or how to Sleep at Night? i ask too often, but never to Anyone who can answer me. i don’t want a Solution i want People to know Everything hurts, but i make it look so alluring. Vanity isn’t suppose to be a Vice. how many ways can i tell on myself? if Everyone else can be so bold why the fuck not Me? ain’t i a Relevant Octave? this is Audacity. for Me a Confession of how all of this converges. my Waking Breaking-folded out & up into this Nation. pretend every White Theatric in which i have played is now my Role to usurp. make it my own. revisit with new Life. i refuse to comment on Anything that can’t kill me today. i choose to comment on the Ruptures that vibrate beside me. i wish i believed in Freedom as much as i believe in Speech. i wish there was Freedom in a Present Politic. awaiting the Guillotine-Shoe to drop i want to know something about writing My Own History if i could tell it you would only know i tried to be. there is not an Age we can be born in & not be Somebody-else’s Dream, Another’s Nightmare. Both Sides is a Battlefield. i lose myself at the Frontline. tag me in the Worthy Aftermath. Soldiers™ of Disenfranchised File & Rank. who can even be out here? dying so ready? the real Tragedies of War exist in the Mouths swallowing the Bombs as beautiful. here i would jest about the things i have swallowed to remind You Humor is the only way You can seem to listen. unless its my Dying. the Audacity of a Memoir a Pre-Emptive Biopic of just how impossible all this actually was. i can’t comment on the Death anymore. Sisters & Xisters. & Brothers, & Siblings & we all carry Bombs in our Throats. Cherry & Toxic & Bubble, clock the Pop. Everybody wanna talk like Us but y’all making Mumble of the Whole Charade & dare to charge Me for it.